Laceration
by JoMarchWrites
Summary: It's no surprise that NCIS Agents are often wounded in the field, but what about the wounds inflicted upon them outside of work? Special Agent Gibbs makes it his first priority to keep his team safe, at all costs, giving them a code to live by to prevent such pain. But...what happens when the rules are broken? (Eventual Tiva and McAbby)
1. Chapter 1

_**Deeper than any wound that could be inflicted by a weapon, heartbreaks leave scars that only true love and honor could even hope to conceal.**_

_**NCIS is the intellectual property of Donald Bellasario and Don McGill. No harm or malice is intended in using the characters, settings, and plotline for fictional work. **_

_"It was not my intention to..."_

_"I don't care!" Gibbs roared, slamming his hand down on the director's desk. "Whatever intentions you had...or didn't have...do you have any idea what you've done here?" He glared, his light eyes a few shades darker than anyone had ever seen prior to this very moment. "Rules number one, three, six, seven, twelve...these rules exist for a reason, Ziva!"_

_Ziva David, stone faced and still, blinked only once before saying, "It was not planned, it will not happen again, and it did not mean..."_

_"Ziva," Gibbs interrupted, leaning over to her. "Don't lie to me, don't pretend for my sake." He righted himself and rubbed his crinkled forehead, ignoring the throb building behind the flesh and bone. "I don't know what to do about this. I can't..."_

_"Jethro," a voice that until now had been silent spoke, a smirk playing at the lips of the woman to whom it belonged. _

_Gibbs looked up at her, then back toward Ziva. "I'll figure it out. Until I do, you're on warning, do you hear me? So is he!" He closed his eyes and jutted a thumb toward the door, telling Ziva to leave the office. He took a breath, yawned it out, and rubbed his temples. "Don't say it," he warned the bemused redhead. _

_"We worked just fine together after we made things personal," she told him._

_He looked her way, his eyes gleaming with obdurate haughtiness. "Until we didn't," he paused to make sure his next words were laced with mild animosity, "Director Shepard. That's why Rule Twelve exists."_

_Jenny Shepard grinned at her former paramour and current subordinate officer. "Trust them to handle it better than we did, then. You know DiNozzo is the consummate professional, he is just like..."_

_"Me," Gibbs nodded. "That's what I'm afraid of." He took another breath and allowed himself to look around the office, taking in the wood-paneled walls, the plethora of ephemera peppering the walls, mementos which spanned Jenny's entire military career, and he chuckled brightly when his eyes landed on a pair of old dog tags, hanging on a hook beside her most recent commendation. "You kept them?" he inquired, pointing. _

_"Of course," she said with a nod. "That was a promise I am holding you to, Jethro, whether you intend to keep it or not."_

He woke with a start, eyes fixed on something invisible as he struggled to calm his labored breathing. It was the fourth time he'd had that dream. Or was it a nightmare? He blinked rapidly as he pushed himself up, the sheets falling off of his bare chest. He scratched at his chin and his cheeks, making a mental acquiescence to the part of himself that begged him to shave.

He coughed and sniffled as he rolled his neck and shoulders, got out of the bed, and padded naked and barefoot into his bathroom. He heaved a lamenting sigh as he fixed the water for the shower he was about to take, and then grabbed his toothbrush and razor and climbed over the side of the tub. He let the hot water hit his face first, hoping to scald away the remains of his midnight memories of Jenny Shepard.

He cleared his throat and turned, allowing the liquid heat to run down his back, and he lifted the razor to his face. He held the skin taut with one hand as the other carefully guided the Gillette across his stubble, mowing it all away. He squinted then, pensive and presumptuous, and he wondered why the focus of his dream was not recalling his trysts with Jenny, but scolding Ziva and DiNozzo. Was his subconscious merely substituting his team for himself and Shepard? Or was his gut truly trying to warn him that history was repeating itself?

Smooth-faced and minty-fresh, he turned off the water, stepped out of the shower, and watched the grime and grit of the night, along with his dreamings, swirl away down the drain. He dressed, grabbed his keys, gun, and billfold out of his bedside table drawer, and walked out of his house, heading for work.

The elevator doors hadn't fully opened yet, and he heard her voice.

"Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs!" Abby Sciuto, the forensics specialist, was hopping up and down excitedly, her combat boots producing loud, clopping sounds with each jump.

He stared at the pigtailed young woman, sipped his coffee, and waited.

She stared back, her deep-purple stained lips stretched into a wide grin, waiting as well.

"What, Abs?" Gibb questioned, giving her a wide-eyed look of frustration.

"Okay," Abby said with a chipper skip. She walked beside Gibbs as he headed to his desk. "So the pink stain on Petty Officer MacGinty's shirt is SW thirty-one, thirty-six." She made a theatrical gesture with both hands. "Precious Pink."

Giving her a befuddled expression, he asked, "What the hell is that?"

"It's wood stain!" Abby seemed surprised. "You work with wood! I thought you..."

"Do I look like the kinda guy that goes around staining things 'Precious Pink,' Abs?"

"No, you do not," Abby said, two fingers pointed in the air and jutting forward a bit, making a gesture of agreement. Her hands then splayed open, palms out. "But wait," she said, her smile only getting bigger, "There's more." She moved her hands in wild wiggles as she spoke, her silver skull shaped rings reflecting the light and forming pretty patterns on the walls. "It's designed, manufactured, and sold exclusively for Sherwin Williams."

Gibbs took another sip of his coffee, then leaned over and kissed her cheek, taking a moment to whisper, "That's good work, Abs," in her ear. He was about to walk away when her gravelly voice stopped him.

"Gibbs!" she whined, stomping her heavy-booted foot, her fisted hands punching downwards as she pouted.

He turned, rolling his eyes. "What, Abs?"

"I already told McGee and we ran a few searches," she said, trotting toward him again. Her skirt bounced when she walked. "The only store in the area that stocks SW thirty-one, thirty-six is in Stafford, and only one person has purchased it in the last three months."

"We got a name?" Gibbs asked, louder, looking around at the rest of his team.

Tony DiNozzo picked up a black remote control and pushed a button, turning on a large screen near Gibbs's desk. "Yup," he said with a nod as a driver's license photo popped up on the screen.

"Yea, boss," Timothy McGee said, staring at Abby. He refocused his eyes toward his silver-haired supervisor. "His name's Paul Doyle."

Gibbs gave Abby another kiss on the cheek, making her break out into a satisfied smile. "Connection to our dead Marine?" he asked anyone who had an answer.

Ziva David rose from her chair and walked over to stand between DiNozzo and McGee. Her long, dark, ponytail swayed when she moved, almost robotically, and she folded her strong arms across her chest. "They went to high school together," she said. She tapped DiNozzo on the shoulder once, hard, with two fingers.

He gave her a downcast look and a crooked smirk, his chiseled jaw clicking as he huffed at her.

She watched him hit a button on the remote and she continued as a new photo came up on the monitor. "They were best friends, both on the football team, until Jason MacGinty stole Paul's girlfriend."

"Monica Dillard," DiNozzo said, grinning as he hit the button on the remote control again. "Or as we know her, Monica MacGinty." He brought the remote up and rested it on his chin as his brow scrunched and he said, "I'm not sure if I would kill anyone over any of my high school girlfriends. That's a long time to hold a grudge, I mean, and she's not even that attractive. Pretty enough, but not drop dead..."

"Tony," Ziva stopped his babbling, giving him a tacit warning with her glare.

"Just sayin," DiNozzo muttered, staring back at her.

Gibbs took a step toward the center of the floor. "Where is he?" he asked, looking at McGee, the resident computer geek and hacker extraordinaire.

McGee typed rapidly, his fingers a peach-tinted blur over his keyboard. "No activity on any of his accounts since Tuesday, no incoming or outgoing calls on his cell, and GPS on the device has been disabled. Last recent known location is his house, which we..."

"Find him," Gibbs ordered, pointing to DiNozzo. "Now!"

"On it, boss," Tony said, grabbing his pack and hooking his gun into his holster. "Wait, alone, or..."

Gibbs rolled his eyes and threw his head back as he said, "McGee...just...go!" and waved a hand at the younger man.

Ziva stood, waiting. "And I am to do what, exactly?"

"You're coming with me," Gibbs said, gulping down the last of his coffee. He threw it in the trashcan next to his desk and walked, knowing Ziva was following him, up the stairs toward MTAC.

Ziva held her breath as she began her ascension. Nothing good ever came from climbing those stairs.

_**Building up to something great, I hope.**_ _**R**_**_eviews and feedback are much appreciated._**

**_Peace and Love_**

**_Jo_**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Part Two: A lesson on rule twelve**_

_**NCIS is the intellectual property of Donald Bellasario and Don McGill. There is no malice intended in the use of the characters, settings, and plotlines in this fictional work.**_

"Gibbs," Ziva said, as if dipping her toe into the pool, trying to decide if it was too cold to dive in. "I do not mean to question your authority, but what is it we are doing up..."

Her words were cut off by the blip of the large screen, images coming into view. "Do you recognize her, Ziva?" he asked, turning his head.

"Liat," Ziva whispered, looking curiously from the screen to Gibbs. "What does she have to do with MacGinty's..."

"Nothing," Gibbs told her, giving her a look that seemed to say "duh." He signaled someone sitting at the computer controls, and several more images appeared on the screen. "Intel suggests she's had a nervous breakdown. Malachi's death drove her off the deep end. She couldn't do her job anymore, because she got too attached, she made it personal and it destroyed her. Do you see what I'm saying, Ziva?"

Ziva turned her head quickly. "No, Gibbs, I do not. I do not see how this has anything to do with me. If you want me to find her and talk to her, that is no longer my job."

Gibbs took a step closer to her. "Rule Twelve," he said, looking into her eyes, and he squinted just a bit relaying his seriousness and threatening promise. "This is why it exists."

"I do not understand why you are..." She paused and folded her arms, then stifled a laugh. "Do you think there is something between us, Gibbs? No, maybe you believe I might soon run off with McGee. Or spend quality time with Tony and his ego?"

Gibbs' face relaxed, his body released its tension. He closed his eyes and he, too, had to struggle to keep from laughing. "Right," he said, rolling his eyes. "She reminds me of you in a lot of ways, Ziva. And if she can fall apart because she got too close..."

"She is not me, Gibbs," Ziva assured him. "Now, if we are done with this little lesson, might we please go solve MacGinty's murder?"

Gibbs nodded, leading the way out of MTAC. And though Ziva put on a good show of innocence, he couldn't shake the feeling that his dream was warning him of the truth. One way or another, he would find out.

Ziva, though, rolled her shoulders and her neck, hearing cracks and feeling muscles relax in her back. She shook ever-so-slightly on the way back down the steps, and eased herself into her seat, hoping her nerves weren't noticeable.

She turned her attention toward her computer, but the tall figure blocking much of her light was distracting. "May I help you, Abby?" Ziva said without looking up at the spunky tech.

Abby tilted her head, stretching out the spiderweb tattoo on her neck, and crossed her arms. "Are you okay? What did he say? Are you in some kind of trouble? Danger?" The questions came rapidly and Abby's knees bopped anxiously with each word.

"I am fine, Abby," Ziva said, typing rapidly. "Gibbs was just jumping to concussions. It is all fine now."

Abby squinted. She pressed her lips together as her brows knitted. Then, her eyes widened and she laughed. "Conclusions!"

"No, I am only just beginning here, but if you find anything on the…" Ziva finally looked up at Abby. "Oh. You were...yes, jumping to conclusions."

Both ladies' heads turned at the sound of the elevator dinging. They watched DiNozzo, McGee, and the man they assumed to be Paul Doyle step out.

Gibbs rose from his desk, where he had been running an online search of his own, and he waited with an annoyed presence that would soon turn angry, knowing someone would explain.

DiNozzo took the shot first. "We didn't have to go far, boss."

"Paul Doyle," McGee said. "He was on his way up here. He kept asking to see you."

Ziva smirked. "Ah, he willingly walked into the frier."

"Fire," DiNozza said, giving her an odd look of frustration and something else she didn't quite recognize.

Gibbs walked over to Doyle, ignoring the others, and said, "This had better be good, pal, 'cause you're in a lot of trouble right now."

"I didn't do it," Paul said, pleading with his eyes. "Why would have come down here in person if I did?" He cleared his throat. "I was there. But I didn't…"

"Not here," Gibbs said, stopping Doyle. He walked away, and before he rounded the corner he snapped his fingers. "McGee!"

McGee looked around for a moment before shouting, "Coming, boss!" He grabbed Doyle by the arm and led him toward interrogation, where he knew Gibbs had been heading.

DiNozzo crossed his arms and nodded a hello to Abby, then said, "McGee noticed some of that pink stuff on Doyle's jacket. You might want to…"

"Oh! Yay! Major Mass Spec was getting bored!" Abby hugged Tony, who shot an awkward look over her shoulder toward Ziva. He laughed when Abby tittered away, hoping to match the stain on Doyle's clothes to the one from MacGinty's.

Sighing, Tony leaned back and plopped onto Ziva's desk. "Miss me?" he asked her, with a cocky smile and crooked eyebrow.

Ziva rolled her eyes. "As much as one might miss a buzzing flea."

"Bee," Tony said, nodding once. "Or...fly. But...fleas don't buzz. I don't think."

"Ugh," Ziva huffed. "I have had it with American idiots."

Tony swallowed a chuckle. "Idioms."

"No, Tony, I meant idiots," she returned, giving him a pointed look. "Why?" she asked. "Did you...miss me?"

He leaned closer to her, something flickering dangerously in his eyes. "Maybe."

She smiled, but her lips turned under just as quickly. "Tony, I...we need to talk."

"Uh-oh," he said glumly. "That's never good." He backed up a bit and scratched his head. "Did I do something? Say something wrong? Offensive? The Porky Pig reference this morning...that...that wasn't about you, I…"

"No, no," she said with closed eyes, shaking her head. "Don't give yourself a conclusion."

Tony opened his mouth to correct her, but he honestly had no idea what she was trying to say. He simply looked at her and settled on "Okay…" as he held out a hand and signaled for her to explain.

"We are good," she told him, assuring him. "I think Gibbs…" She stopped herself, looking down the hallway where Gibbs and McGee had taken Doyle.

Tony was growing impatient, worry about what her next words would be seeping in. "Ziva, what? Gibbs what?"

Ziva turned back to him, her own eyes reflecting the subtle worry that had been swimming in his. "I think Gibbs knows."

_**Please feel free to leave feedback. Thank you for reading and supporting.**_

Peace and Love

Jo


	3. Chapter 3

_**Part Three: Rules are made to be broken**_

_**NCIS is the intellectual property of Donald Bellasario and Don McGill. There is no malice intended in the use of the characters, settings, and plotlines in this fictional work.**_

He cursed, not unlike a sailor, as the hot wax trickled down his chest. His fingers dug into the tops of her thighs, and he narrowed his eyes at her wicked smirk.

She licked her lips and chuckled as she tilted the candle again, taking pride in the way he writhed beneath her and pleasure in the moans he let out. "Bad boy," she teased, running a fingernail through the soft waxy pile near his belly button.

"Yeah?" he fired back, sitting up. He blew out the candle, took it from her hands, and dropped it onto the end table beside him. He made sure he had a tight grip, both large hands on her hips, and he rolled hard, flipping them over. "What are you gonna do about it?"

Her shocked eyes stared into his as she felt him take hold of her wrists. She inhaled sharply, hearing the metallic clink of his cuffs being pulled from the bedside table drawer.

"Tony," she breathed, gasping inward as he looped the links around her left wrist and the bar behind it, binding her to the brass headboard. Her right hand remained free, and when she felt him move she scratched ferociously at his back.

He thrust hard, making her scream his name, as he palmed her hips in his hands and rose to his knees.

Her body followed, her torso restrained, flat on the bed, as her hips rose to meet his eager pounding and legs wrapped round his powerful lower half. There was something animalistic, almost violent, in the way he took her tonight, and she didn't mind.

In fact, she needed it rough, needed to be reminded of why they worked so well together, both in the field and in bed.

He lowered his head and slammed into her harder, faster, knowing there was little she could do to stop him. "No overpowering me tonight," he whispered, both teasing and frustrating her. "My turn to drive you crazy."

Her eyes rolled as the heat coursed through her, rising from the very tips of her toes. "Tony," she whined, her one helpless hand struggling against its chains as her other managed to cut deeply into his shoulder blade. "Tony, I can't..."

"Good," he stopped her. "Fuck, I don't want you to." To punctuate his affirmation, he held her body even tighter, gripping her as he drove into her, stopping when he was fully surrounded by her and their skin met with a sticky slap.

The nail in the coffin, that last punch drove her over the edge. She flew off the mattress as much as her body could, uncontrollably, and her mouth latched onto the front of his shoulder. She screamed his name with his flesh in her mouth, biting hard as she twitched and trembled against him.

The pain pulled a fierce growl from him as he spilled hotly into her, pulsating inside of her. He wrapped his strong arms around her, clutching her to him as they both felt the tremors rip through them.

They were still, then. Silent. Just breathing and holding each other. He wearily hit at the small latch on the single handcuff, freeing her wrist, and he smiled sweetly when he felt her acquitted arm fall around him. He moaned, then, as he realized she was licking at his skin.

"Drew blood," she whispered, lapping at the wet, red droplets and teeth marks she'd left in his shoulder. "Sorry," she breathed, then let her head fall limply into the crook of his neck.

He kissed the side of her face. "Are not." He didn't want to let her go. He felt at home, with her, just as they were. He felt the cold metal of her necklace pressing into his chest, her Star of David searing itself into the place his heart was, and he closed his eyes. It was fitting. She was truly imprinted on his heart, and there was no denying it.

"I don't think Gibbs knows," he finally said, gently easing her away from him. He found her eyes for a moment, then gently kissed her lips.

"You do not?" she raised an eyebrow and kissed him back.

He shook his head as he smoothed her hair back. "I would have been smacked so hard, I'd be thinking it was Nineteen Eighty Five."

She laughed and kissed him again, a bright smile on her face. She didn't want to admit it, not to herself, not to anyone, but he made her whole in a way she'd never known. "Okay," she said. And with one more kiss, their night had come crashing to a disappointing halt.

"Yours or mine?" he asked, one crooked eyebrow and a slanted grin, as he heard the annoying vibration of a cell phone.

"Yours." She sighed and peeled herself off of him, regretting it instantly. The absence of his heartbeat against her chest was painfully felt .

He watched her body move as she dressed and he reached for his phone. "Yeah, boss?" he said, answering, knowing. "Right. Okay. What? Why would I...no problem, can you call her, though? I don't want to wake her up, ya know, she's scary when she...thanks."

She looked at him quizzically as she pulled on her shirt.

"He's calling you," Tony told her. "I have to pick you up on my way in, we have to get coffee." He moved off of the bed and found his pants on the floor. "Break in the case." He kissed her just as her phone rang. He threw on his clothes, eyes trained on her, taking in the way her face changed when she was talking to Gibbs, the way her forehead crinkled in seriousness.

"Well," she sighed when she hung up. "Guess it's time to get down to bass tracks."

He laughed, "Wh...what?" he said, chuckling. "Honey, it's brass tacks." He kissed the end of her nose, rolled his eyes, and said, "Yeah, it is. Back to business." He winked at her. "To be continued."

She took a deep breath and followed him out of the apartment, locking the door behind her.

**_Please, feel free to review._**

**_Peace and Love_**

**_Jo_**


	4. Chapter 4

_**Part Four: Rule #7 Always be specific when you lie**_

_**NCIS is the intellectual property of Donald Bellasario and Don McGill. There is no malice intended in the use of the characters, settings, and plotlines in this fictional work.**_

"I've been meaning to ask," McGee hazarded, "What the hell happened to you?"

DiNozzo looked at him, befuddled, as he held the camera in his hands a bit lower. "What, Probie?"

McGee shrugged as he scribbled something in his notepad. "You've got...bruises. On your neck. There are scratches all over your left arm, and is that..." he pointed to Tony's right hand with the tip of his pen. "Is that a bite mark?"

Tony, still narrow-eyed and irritated, licked his lips. "I got a dog. A puppy. Bulldog." He sent a furtive glance over to Ziva, who was listening to them, he knew it. "Feisty little bitch, but I love her."

"Wow, Tony," McGee said, offering a smile. "I thought you hated dogs. Guess that goldfish of yours taught you that you love animals."

Tony chuckled, then turned back to the scene and raised his camera again, snapping photos. "Yeah. She's an animal, alright. The dog, I mean."

McGee knelt beside the body and scrutinized the torn fabric of the man's shirt. "What's her name?"

"Who?" Tony returned, stepping around the corpse to take pictures from a new angle.

"The puppy, who did you think I was talking about?" McGee angled his eyes up toward Tony, looking bemused.

Tony glanced at Ziva again, grinned, then peered down at McGee. "Sophie." He smiled, remembering the undercover case that had brought him closer to Ziva and God. "She's...a French Bulldog."

Ziva, hearing it all, chuckled to herself, but at the same time felt her heart almost burst. His mention of the name brought back memories of that case for her, too, and she was just as thankful for it. "I think," she spoke, interrupting the two men, "Well, I do not want to go out on a branch, here, but I think these cases are in fact related."

"Branch?" McGee squinted at her. "Limb!" he snapped his fingers. "You mean go out on a limb." He rose to his feet and walked over to her, ignoring the fact that Tony was now taking pictures of him. "What makes you say that?"

"Look," she pointed down at the dead man, bringing focus to his shoes. "Pink."

McGee knelt, pulling a cotton swab out of his kit. He swiped the pinkish stain on the sole of the victim's shoe, then noticed something. "Hey, guys?" he looked up and glanced back and forth between Tony and Ziva. "I don't think these are really his shoes." He reached his hand into the cuff of the man's pants, and grimaced as he pulled out two severed toes.

Tony snapped a picture of McGee holding the new evidence in a pair of forceps. Then twisted his lens and took a photo of Ziva, zooming in on the softness of her face and the seriousness in her eyes. The contrast astounded him. "Abby's gonna love this."

"What, DiNozzo?" Gibbs sipped his coffee as he adjusted his ball cap and eyed his senior agent suspiciously.

"Oh, hey, Boss," DiNozzo straightened up and jerked his head toward McGee. "Our little friend, here, is one of Cinderella's stepsisters." He looked at Gibbs' stone-cold stare and watched him sip his coffee. "You know, uh, the fairy tale. They cut off their toes to fit into to the glass slipper..."

"Well, I doubt we're looking for Prince Charming, DiNozzo," Gibbs interrupted, raising his arm and giving Tony a swift smack to the back of his head. "Bag and tag those shoes, get Ducky in here, and find out what the hell happened to him."

McGee exhaled, unaware he'd been holding his breath, and watched Gibbs walk out of the room. "Hey, where is Ducky anyway?"

"Sorry I'm late," the aging medical examiner declared entering the room from a different door. "We made a wrong turn down a one way street and young Palmer refused to make an illegal U-turn until he alerted local authorities."

Palmer, the assistant, shrugged his shoulders and pushed his glasses up further on his nose. "I didn't want to get a ticket! That van is already a moving violation on its own, and I know that Director Shepard wouldn't be thrilled having to pay a fine for something so..."

"Hey, Mini Mallard, no one cares," DiNozzo snapped, gesturing down to the dead naval officer. "Especially not him."

Doctor Mallard walked over to the group and shook his head as he looked down. He watched as McGee pulled off the tattered sneakers, intrigued at what was now revealed. He pointed a slightly shaky finger toward the man's disfigured feet. "You know," he said, his British accented voice lilting the way it did before he told a long story, "This reminds me of one of the first autopsies I conducted. Hit by a drunk driver, he was, and the back wheels of the car rolled over his feet, severing all ten toes completely. The wheels had been spiked because it was the middle of December, an ice storm had hit the night before, and the driver said he'd been drinking to keep warm." He looked around at the bored but respectful faces of his team. "If you'll excuse me," he cleared his throat, "I will find out how this young man lost his footing."

"Well," McGee said, swallowing his nausea and nodding, as he taped the evidence seal to the plastic baggie, now holding the blood-filled sneakers. "We'll leave you to it, then, just...keep us informed."

"Later, Ducky," DiNozzo said, then looked at Palmer. "You, too, Duckling."

Palmer shook his head as the agents filed out of the room, and then knelt down to help Doctor Mallard examine their latest victim.

Tony squinted as he stepped out of the house into the bright sunlight. "Remind me to keep a spare set of shades in the car," he said to no one in particular.

"Hey, Tony, you should keep a spare set of sunglasses in the car," McGee quipped, peering at Tony from behind his own dark lenses.

Tony gave him an irritated smile and said, "Oh, thank you, McObnoxious."

McGee gave a mock salute and walked away, beginning to put his gear into the back of the black SUV.

When he was sure McGee couldn't hear him, he turned to Ziva. "You know I didn't mean to imply that you were a dog," he whispered, straightening the brim of his NCIS cap to keep the sun out of his eyes. "He just asked, and I had to..."

"I know," she said with a smile, "My little hairy- butt." She winked, telling him she remembered every detail of their covert operation, just as he did. She coyly patted his ass and walked away, oblivious to Tony watching her appreciatively.

He smirked, licked his lips, and followed in her direction, getting into the driver's side of the vehicle. "Buckle up," he yelled.

McGee snapped the closure of his seat belt, then looked at DiNozzo in the rear view mirror. "Hold on," he said. "Where did Gibbs go? His car's not here. He usually follows us back."

Tony shifted the car into drive and pulled away, knowing exactly where Gibbs went and smirking. He shook his head, and chuckled to himself. Gibbs couldn't possibly string him and Ziva up if their secret ever came out. Not when Gibbs himself had been breaking his own rules.

_**Reviews are always welcome.**_

_**Peace and Love**_

_**Jo**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Part 5: Rule #15 Always Work As A Team**_

_**NCIS is the intellectual property of Donald Bellasario and Don McGill. There is no malice intended in the use of the characters, settings, and plotlines in this fictional work.**_

Gibbs strolled out of the director's office with a smirk on his face and a hint of something indiscernible in his eyes. He sipped his coffee as he trotted down the stairs, then noticed his entire team waiting for him by his desk.

DiNozzo chuckled when he saw the expression on his boss's face. He knew that look.

Gibbs strolled into the middle of the group, locked eyes with McGee, and took a long sip of his coffee. He tossed the empty cup into the trash bin, not taking his eyes off of the young agent. He folded his arms and raised both eyebrows.

"Oh! Okay..." McGee began, sputtering out a few noises as he ran over to his computer. "Guy's name is Jeffrey Fogarty. Twenty-nine years old." He hit a button on his keyboard and their victim's picture appeared on the large screen. "Ducky said his toes were removed post-mortem, those shoes were definitely not his.

Tony picked the remote up from off of his desk and he waved it around has he spoke. "Abby took the innersoles out of them. She's trying to get a footprint."

Ziva ripped the remote out of Tony's hand and clicked the button. "Fogerty was..."

"Gibbs! Gibbs! Gibbs!" Abby interrupted Ziva as she scuttled into the room. Her arms and hands were flailing excitedly making her bracelets and rings click and clank. Her tutu-like skirt bounced against her fishnet covered knees and her knee-high chunky boots landed with a thomp as her feet hit the carpet. Her smile was bright as she stopped in front of Gibbs and said, "Guess what!"

Gibbs looked around, noticing his agents hiding smirks. It was impossible not to smile around Abby. He thought he saw a different sort of grin plastered on McGee's face, but he ignored it and looked at Abby. "What?"

"Guess!" she said, nodding chipperly.

Gibbs crossed his arms.

Her face fell into a petulant pout, and she tugged on one of her dark pigtails in frustration at Gibbs' refusal to play along. "Fine," she snapped. She pulled a small tube out of her lab coat pocket and said, "The fumes aren't the only thing that would make you high if you used the stuff." She shook the tiny test tube and raised finger. "I found your motive!"

"Drugs?" Ziva questioned, perplexed. "In the stain?"

Abby nodded at her. "The pigments are heavily concentrated so they're mixed with water and laquer and at the store. Now if you dissolved a powdered substance in the water...making it untraceable..." She turned to McGee, winked, then looked at Gibbs. "Traces of cocaine in the stain samples pulled off our victims." She gave the tube another shake.

DiNozzo hums and snaps his fingers. "So someone smuggled coke by hiding it in Precious Pink wood stain."

"Yep," Abby nodded. "It's not a popular color so it's only shipped to stores when there's a special order." She looked at Gibbs and tilted her head.

"You look like a cat that swallowed a canopy," Ziva said, squinting.

Tony chuckled next to her. "Canary."

"Oh, right," she seethed, nodding.

Abby handed Gibbs a small piece of paper with a name on it. "MacGinty requested this stuff a month ago. I'm running a dump on his phone to find out when they called him to tell him it was in stock."

McGee looked at her, impressed and proud. "He must have known it was laced with..." his eyes had fallen to the curves of her chest and traveled down to her ass. "Well, to...uh...well, how..."

"McGee!" Abby scolded, knowing where his eyes had traveled. "He knew," she assumed, shaking the white powder in her hand.

Gibbs kissed her cheek. "Good work, Abs." Then he turned to McGee. "Can you work with her on that?"

McGee nodded, licked his lips, and said, "Yeah," he nodded. "But how does Doyle fit here?"

Ziva piped in, then, figuring it out. "MacGinty gets to the store to pick up the stain. The clerk gives him what he has, MacGinty must have known how many cans to expect. He counts, one is missing.

McGee nodded in agreement. "He asked the clerk who bought it, finds out it was Doyle. Of course, he knew where to find him..."

Tony cut him off. "But when he got there the can was half gone, half the stuff was used..."

"He was shit outta luck," Gibbs said. "Still is. DiNozzo, you're with me." He headed down the path toward the interrogation room.

"Uh...what?" DiNozzo stammered.

"Doyle," Ziva whispered to him. She swatted his ass to prod him along, and she smirked at the heated look she was given in return.

McGee scratched his head. "If MacGinty ordered the stain, he had to have known the..."

"Smuggler," Ziva finished. "We need to find his wife. She could be involved, or in trouble." She rushed to her desk, sat, and picked up the phone.

McGee stepped over to Abby and grinned at her. "Do you need me to help with that phone dump? Down in the lab or..."

"Tim," Abby said, eyeing him. "Do you have to ask?" She grabbed his hand and pulled him along, leading him to her lab.

"Oh," Ziva said, redialing the number after getting an error message, "This is not good. This is bad." She got the same message and slammed the receiver down, then shot out of her seat. "Wait!" she yelled running toward the interrogation room. "We have hit a bumbling block! No, stumbling." She turned on her heels to round the corner. "Wait!" she repeated, nodding as she saw Tony and Gibbs turn around, and she reached out a hand and grabbed Tony's arm.

He resisted the urge to pull her closer, raised an eyebrow, and licked his lips. "You're wrinkling my suit."

She straightened up, still out of breath, and whacked him in the stomach, earning a few mumbled curses, and she looked at Gibbs. "MacGinty's home phone has been disconnected, his wife's cell phone is no longer in service."

Gibbs hit the wall beside him and grunted. "Go," he shouted pointing at DiNozzo and Ziva. "Find her!" He watched them run in the other direction then ran a hand down his face. He needed to find out where the drugs had come from, and he hoped Abby has something he could use to do it.

_**Reviews are very welcome.**_

_**Peace and Love**_

_**Jo**_


	6. Chapter 6

**_Part 6: Rule #39: _****_There is no such thing as coincidence._**

_**NCIS is the intellectual property of Donald Bellasario and Don McGill. There is no malice intended in the use of the characters, settings, and plotlines in this fictional work.**_

Gibbs stood in front of the glass doors of the lab, staring at Abby and McGee, unsure if he was ready to laugh or yell. He waited, looked at his watch, and rolled his eyes. "Am I interrupting something, here, Abs?"

Abby, pulling sharply away from McGee, turned to face Gibbs. Her face, paler than usual, froze in a shocked expression as she struggled to say something. "No, that was...I was...um, he was..."

"We got something," McGee said, clearing his throat. He wiped the corners of his lips and rubbed away the slight stain of her lipstick on his skin. He turned toward the computers, punched several commands into the keyboard, and as the images on the monitor changed, he said, "The shipment of stain originated from the manufacturing plant in Greensboro, North Carolina."

"Yeah, great, what the hell did I walk into down here?" Gibbs asked, his arms folded and his eyes narrow. "Are you both out of your minds?"

McGee looked at Abby, then at Gibbs. "It was my fault, Boss," he admitted.

"Oh, I don't doubt that, McGee," Gibbs replied. He turned sharply toward the younger agent, his pointed finger shooting up threateningly. "I've been on Ziva's ass, and the whole time...you and..." he took a breath and exhaled hard through his flaring nostrils. He moved fast, slapping the back of McGee's head hard. "And in the lab? If you can't keep it in your pants, McGee, at least keep it out of work!" He heard a slight whimper from Abby, and his face softened only slightly. "I will deal with you later," he threatened, then turned toward Abby. "Now, what?"

Abby was still for a moment, worried that she somehow upset or disappointed Gibbs, and she cleared her throat before hopping up and down once and facing the computer screens. "Like McGee said, the shipment came straight from the manufacturer. I checked employee records, ran a few searches, and one man in the processing department tripped the alarm." She tapped several keys and tried to force herself to focus on the monitor, unwilling and unable to look at Gibbs. "Martin Murphy," she said. "Hid his criminal record from his employer, but not from me. He served ten months in the slammer for possession with intent. He had a few thousand dollars worth of drugs in the trunk of his car, it was seized during the search. Guess what drug?"

"Cocaine," Gibbs said, nodding once. He stepped up behind Abby. "Connection to MacGinty?"

"Went to school with him and Doyle," McGee said, grey keys clicking under his nimble fingers. "MacGinty's brother is a cop," he said, turning to Gibbs. "The one who arrested Murphy on the drug charges."

"Murphy was released from prison, no one in his hometown wanted to associate with a known drug dealer," Abby said, relaxing. She tapped a few buttons and pointed to one of the computer screens. "He moved down to North Carolina, hoping to make a fresh start."

"Here's where it gets interesting, Boss," McGee said. "Doyle's phone dump." He handed Gibbs a few printed pages. "Look who he's been calling every week for the past year."

Gibbs scrolled through the numbers. "Cell phone," he mumbled. "North Carolina area code." He shoved the documents back toward McGee. "Rule Thirty-nine," he said, licking his lips.

McGee nodded. "Definitely not a coincidence, I know."

Gibbs looked back at Abby, then eyed McGee for a moment, contemplating the kiss he'd intruded on, and briefly wondering why it bothered him so much. He pushed it to the back of his mind and asked, "Did you find out when the store called him to tell him the order was in?"

Abby turned to Gibbs, grinning now. "Of course," she chirped. "Three days ago."

"I called the clerk," McGee said. "MacGinty ordered a case, which is twenty-four cans. One of the part-time employees didn't know it was a special order, sold a can to Doyle." He folded his arms. "The guy said that MacGinty showed up to pick up the stain, and when he saw one can was missing he was furious, threatened to kill him if he didn't tell him who bought it."

They all heard the whoosh of the glass doors opening, and they turned to see DiNozzo standing there, a smug grin on his face. "Good news and bad news."

"What happened to you?" McGee asked, noticing the rumpled appearance of Tony's suit.

"I had a little spat with a frustrated woman," DiNozzo said, shuddering. "Anyway, which do you want first."

"Just tell me what ya got, DiNozzo," Gibbs ordered, waving his hand at him.

Tony cleared his throat and smoothed out his shirt a bit. "Doyle admitted to getting into a fight with MacGinty, he claims it was self defense. He said MacGinty snuck up on him while he was staining the crib, tried to choke him. But...the kicker...he said MacGinty's phone rang, and he locked himself in the bathroom to take the call. Doyle got to his feet and ran. He saw on the news that the body was found in his house, and he came down here, knowing he'd be a suspect."

Gibbs rubbed his forehead a bit, then said, "Was that the good news or..."

"The bad news, he's not our killer, but I'm not finished, Boss," Tony interrupted, smirking. "While I was talking to Doyle, Ziva got on the horn with local Leos, put an APB out on MacGinty's wife. Security guard spotted her at the train station, waiting for an Amtrak, he called it in." He pulled out his notebook, flipped a few pages, and said, "Ziva said they told her she bought a one way ticket to Greensboro, North Carolina." He looked up. "Does that mean anything to you?"

Abby looked at McGee, then at Gibbs, finally folding her arms and grinning. "That's not a coincidence, either."

Gibbs grinned at her, and then started to move toward the doors. "Is she still there?" he asked over his shoulder.

"They detained her," Tony said, nodding. "They're searching her bags as we speak, waiting for us to..."

"Then stop talking and start moving," Gibbs said. "You, too, McGee. Let's go."

McGee stilled for a minute, looked at Abby, kissed her cheek, then ran to catch up with Gibbs and DiNozzo.

Abby rose up on her toes and yelled, "Hey, Gibbs, can you get me a Caf-Pow or something? No?"

Gibbs stopped walking, turned on his heels, and ran back to her, stopping a few inches in front of her. He grabbed her chin gently, looked into her eyes, and softly asked, "Do you know what you're doing with him, Abs?"

She tilted her head, her black pigtails drooping, and she gave him a sad smile. "You know I do, Gibbs. I think I..."

Gibbs moved a finger from her chin to her lips. He smiled, kissed her forehead, and said, "Good." He turned to leave again, but said, "I'll bring you back something nice."

Abby closed her eyes then let out a breath, relieved. She cracked her knuckles, then started to type a few program commands into the computer, having a feeling Gibbs was going to bring back more than he bargained for, and she would be ready for it.

_**Reviews are always welcome :)**_

**_Peace and Love_**

**_Jo_**


	7. Chapter 7

**_Part 7: Rule #18 _****_It's better to seek forgiveness than ask permission._**

**_NCIS is the intellectual property of Donald Bellasario and Don McGill. No harm or malice is intended in using the characters, settings, and plotline for fictional work_**

DiNozzo leaned against the wall of the Amtrak security booth, his arms crossed, watching Gibbs question Monica MacGinty. He leaned into Ziva and said, "This is like the scene in Basic Instinct, where Wayne Knight and Michael Douglas try like hell, but Sharon Stone just sits there, smirking at them, and..."

"I know," Ziva interrupted him. "If she crosses her legs, Tony, you had better be looking somewhere..."

"At you," he whispered, his tone less playful than a moment ago. "Nowhere else I'd rather be looking."

She gave him a slight smile, then turned to Gibbs, who was obviously growing frustrated. "If she has not said anything useful yet, Gibbs, the odds are..."

Gibbs ignored Ziva, and instead, slammed a photograph down on the table in front of Monica. "Did you do that?" he asked, his nostrils flaring. "What, you found out your husband went a little too far, was about to blow the entire operation? You followed him to Doyle's house, he wouldn't listen, you took him out of the equation, is that it?"

"Please," Monica quavered, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. "I didn't...no...I couldn't."

"Your husband is dead," Gibbs said, shouting. "Murdered! And then you go off the grid and set out running to the same place the drugs that got him killed came from! You expect me to believe you have nothing to..."

"All right!" Monica spat back, tears in her eyes. "It was Jason's idea. We use his friend to hide the drugs, smuggle them back up here, he knew a way to extract the..."

"I know how it's done," Gibbs said, softer now. He sat down, tossed another photo of Jason MacGinty down on the table, and said, "I want to know why. What went wrong?"

Monica trembled a bit, looked up at Gibbs, and then picked away at the skin around her nails for a moment before saying, "I think I want a lawyer."

Gibbs' head dropped. He sighed and looked at the security officers. "Contents of the luggage?" he questioned, rising out of his seat.

One of the uniformed men flipped a page on his clipboard, running a finger down the paper. "Clothing, a cosmetics case, and...wait...that's odd." He flipped the page again, confused, then flipped it back. "Says here one bag contained twenty-three cans of wood stain and a Bunsen burner."

Gibbs cracked a smile, his dimples winking as he turned to Monica. "Yeah, you're gonna need a good lawyer." He looked over his shoulder. "McGee, take her in, I'll meet you in the van." He slapped the security guard on the shoulder and followed him, heading to pick up Monica MacGinty's luggage."

DiNozzo watched McGee cuff the woman and read her rights, and he straightened up and rolled the tension out of his neck and shoulders. "Ow," he said, seething as he felt a series of cracks and pops.

"Are you okay?" Ziva asked, instinctively laying a hand on his shoulder. She squeezed hard, making him moan, and she smirked. "Better?"

"Keep doing that, and you'll see how much better I get," he quipped, his eyes rolling as she massaged his left shoulder. He sighed then, and shrugged her off of him, looked around for Gibbs, and then shoved his hands into his pockets. "This...us..."

"Oh," Ziva said, taken aback, her eyes flitting away from Tony. "Yes, well, all good things must come to an end, yes?"

"Hey, you got that one right," he teased with a wink. "But...no...I'm not..." he waited until she looked back at him. "I'm trying, here, okay? I haven't been in an actual relationship since Jeanne, so part of me was...I've been holding back."

She raised one eyebrow and her lips curled just a bit. "If that has been you holding back, I am not sure I want to know what you are like in full force." She lowered her voice. "I still cannot feel certain parts of my body."

He snorted and licked his lips. "That's hot," he said lightly, and he turned his head to look for Gibbs again. He pulled on Ziva's arm, leading her toward the van, knowing he shouldn't be leaving McGee alone with a suspect, but his eyes were still on Ziva's face. "I meant...emotionally. And that's not fair. To either of us."

Ziva narrowed her eyes and stopped moving. She tugged her arm away from Tony and said, "You are saying that you...want..."

"More," he finished, his face expressionless but his eyes betraying his emotion. "Yeah. I think...with the risks we're taking, we either go hard or go home. We go all in, or we fold. I need to know I'm not risking my job and putting the respect of a man I consider a father on the line...for something that I can't hold on to for the rest of my life. Or at least a year or two, it's gotta be something great, get it?"

Ziva's eyes widened, and her heart sped up and pounded hard against her chest. "Tony, I think you should..."

"I'm not saying we should get married," he told her. "I don't think either of us are the marrying type. At least, ya know, not now, but maybe in a couple years when I start realizing I'm becoming my father, and you start wanting kids, but I'm saying..."

"Stop talking, Tony," Ziva ordered through gritted teeth.

Tony knew, then, and his eyes closed. He started laughing nervously, and he jerked his head and shrugged off the embarrassment as he turned around. "So, Boss, we got enough evidence to..."

"Has everyone on this team gone completely crazy?" Gibbs asked, stunned at what he'd just heard.

Ziva saw the stare-down going on between Gibbs and DiNozzo. She hiked her bag up higher on her shoulder and said, "Oh, I think I hear McGee calling for me. Yes! Coming, McGee!" and ran toward the van.

Tony took a breath and stepped up to Gibbs. "Look," he sighed. "I know what you're gonna say, and you're right. I should have talked to you first. There's a rule against things..." he paused. "But there's also another rule I tend to live by. Rule eighteen."

"It's better to seek forgiveness than ask permission," Gibbs said, laughing slightly. "Yeah, Tony, I was just gonna say..."

Tony interrupted again. "If anything goes wrong, it'll make things awkward, but you tell me, have things been awkward? Ever? Even with Kate, things were tense, but never awkward." He scrubbed a hand down his face and shook his head a bit, then said, "This job...it's twenty-four-seven, and it's hard. It's the reason you've gone through more wives than King Henry. We're human, Gibbs, we need that connection. And can you blame me if I want it with someone who understands? Someone who can't get mad at me for working late, or leave me because I'm always on call, since they have to do the same thing?"

"No," Gibbs sighed, crossing his arms. "I just need to know if..."

"How are things with you and Director Shepard, by the way?" Tony asked, a daring look in his eyes.

Gibbs took another deep breath and raised both hands. "Touché," he said, nodding once. "You know, I don't begrudge you anything, DiNozzo. And what I heard you say to her...if you mean all of that..."

"I do," DiNozzo stated. "Well, I did, when I said it, but she seemed kinda pissed off, I think maybe I scared her, so I..."

"Tony," Gibbs said with a laugh. "I scared her." He moved his hand and Tony ducked, assuming he was about to get slapped in the head, but Gibbs rested his hand on Tony's shoulder. "I'm proud of you. You broke a rule, but...you had a good reason."

DiNozzo eyed Gibbs for a moment. "Who are you, and what have you done with the bossman?"

Gibbs laughed and led Tony toward the van. "Be careful. Be smart. I...I heard what you said, ya know. All of it." He sighed and gazed off in the direction of the horizon. "I've been trying so hard to protect you. All of you. Because I couldn't protect..." he stopped, swallowing hard, and then he looked back at Tony. "I guess sometimes we let the pain of old wounds keep us from taking chances. Always too afraid of the next laceration to truly let old ones heal."

"That's poetic," Tony said, understanding.

"Come on," Gibbs said. "Get in." He patted Tony on the back one more time, and then got into the driver's seat of the black van. As he started the car, he let his thoughts drift to Jenny, his recurring dream, and he finally understood what it meant. He shifted into drive, stepped on the gas, and he smiled to himself. He knew what he had to do.

**_Reviews are very encouraging._**

**_Peace and Love_**

**_Jo_**


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